


The Odyssey

by dragonmactir



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Final Fantasy XII, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Backstory, Childhood Trauma, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-02
Updated: 2018-08-02
Packaged: 2019-06-20 16:23:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15538242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonmactir/pseuds/dragonmactir
Summary: Young Thor and Loki and Loki and Thor are tumbled into a mishmashed world of videogame settings and characters long before such things have ever been invented.  Their only way out is to play the game set before them by the mysterious entity who goads them on in their minds.  Will he release them, or are they trapped?





	1. Stark Reality

Loki Odinson was a young man used to strange circumstances.  He often created them, for you see, he was a god.  _The_ god, actually, at least as far as mischief was concerned.  There were other gods dedicated to deceit, pandemonium, illusion, charm, revelry… he was all of that, mixed with as much fun as he could throw in.  So waking up naked in a fountain in a completely strange plaza wasn’t all that out of the ordinary for him, even at his tender (for a god) age.  Not being able to remember any reason for it was, however, moderately alarming.

 

A chorus of female giggles alerted him to the presence of onlookers.  Not good.  Well, _depending_ … no, not good.  Not good at all.  His body seemed surprisingly noncompliant as he struggled to move in the chill waters.

 

“The dark one wakes,” a young voice said, amusement dripping from her words.  “He is very handsome, yes?”

 

“You may have the dark one,” another young woman said.  “I shall take for myself the blond.  A more _seasoned_ figure.”

 

The blond.  That meant he wasn’t in this mess alone.  And who else could it be but the load-and-a-half, his older brother Thor?  With great effort, he managed to twist himself onto all fours.  His brother’s shaggy head lay nearby.  He grabbed it and shook it.  Thor grumbled but didn’t waken.

 

“Brother, wake up!  Girls are staring at us in our glory!” he hissed, sotto voce, but Thor remained unconscious.  One of the girls made an animal noise in her throat and the others laughed.  Frustrated, Loki grabbed his brother around the neck and heaved.  He was slight, and Thor was mighty, but he was still a god, and far stronger than he looked.  Thor bumped over the tilework after him as he scrambled for cover with his brother in tow.  The girls’ laughter followed after, but thankfully they did not give chase.

 

The rough ride served to wake Thor, who sat on the cobbles of the alley rubbing his rump and wincing.  “Ah, brother!  My limbs feel as though they weigh thousands of tons!” he said.

 

“I sympathize, brother, but it passes quickly enough,” Loki said.  “Of more pressing import is our nakedness.”

 

Thor dropped his hands heavily to his sides and stared hard at his younger brother.  _“Why are we naked,_ brother mine?”

 

 _“I don’t know,_ brother dear.  I don’t even know where we are.”

 

“So… wait… _thee_ didn’t do this to us?” Thor asked.  He looked and sounded confused.  Maybe a little dismayed.

 

“Not to my knowledge.”

 

“So this… _is not_ … one of thy pranks.”

 

“If it were, I’d be laughing.  Carefully note, I am not laughing.”

 

“Pinky swear?”

 

Loki sighed.  “Look, either thou believest me or nay. Either way, we’re somewhere I don’t know the name of, with no gold, no possessions, and no clothes.  I don’t know about thou, but I callest that a state of emergency.”

 

Thor looked down at himself, then back at his brother.  “How are we going to rectify this situation?  Canst thee ‘illusion’ us some clothes?”

 

“’Twill be better than nothing, but it won’t keep us from pneumonia,” Loki said.

 

“Well, go ahead then,” Thor said.

 

“I just did,” Loki said, face grim.  “Nothing happened.  ’Tis not the first time I’ve wakened in a strange place with no powers.  Canst thou call the lightning?”

 

“I don’t have mjolnir.”

 

“Thou can call the lightning without mjolnir.”

 

“Not well.”

 

_“Try.”_

 

“If it works, I might hitest some innocent.”

 

“That never bothered thee when it was _me.”_

 

Thor paused.  “That was long ago, brother.  I was a child, I… did not understand.”

 

Loki hung his head.  “I know.  I am… sorry to raiseth the subject.”

 

“Instead of railing at each other, we need to find clothes, fast,” Thor said.  “I… suppose that means we shall have to… stealeth something.  For now.”

 

“It would be difficult to walketh naked to a stranger’s door and beg for garments,” Loki agreed.  “Stay put.  I shall return forthwith.”

 

Thor hid himself in an alcove behind some stonework and Loki swiftly scampered off down the alley towards what looked like a residential street beyond.  His brother could move swifter than the wind, so Thor didn’t worry too much about his being seen.  In a matter of a few moments he was back, dressed in bulky plain weave garb and carrying similar.

 

“Best I could find.  Hurry up and dress.  There is a distressing number of armored guardsmen on the streets,” Loki said.

 

“What for is the aperture in the back of the trousers?” Thor asked, holding up the garment.

 

“’Tis for the tail.  Sorry, but the humans here all seem deplorably diminutive.”

 

Thor put the trousers down.  “What kind of creature wore these breeches, brother?” he asked.

 

“Some sort of two-legged, wingless dragon beast,” Loki said.  “Don’t be hair-shirted brother.  Just wear them.”

 

“Just curious,” Thor said, sighing and slipping on the trousers.  It really was no time to be particular.  Loki had probably taken them off a line, so they were likely clean, which was all that really mattered.  Even that was a debatable necessity when you were stark naked on a strange city street.

 

“Well, I suppose the first thing to do would be to find out where we are,” Loki said.  “As inconspicuously as possible, so we don’t look too insane.”

 

“So what dost we do?” Thor asked.

 

“Well… leave it to me,” Loki said.  “Come on.”

 

Loki led Thor onto a wide market street teeming with midday marketers.  He stopped a random passerby, a young blonde-haired human woman over a foot shorter than the brothers, and smiled at her.

 

“Prithee, fair maiden, couldst thou pardon us for a moment?  My brother and I are quite new in the area and I’m afraid we’ve gotten ourselves quite lost.  Couldst thou tell us, please, where we are?”

 

“Rabanastre,” she said, wide-eyed.

 

“Oh, we knowest that, ma’am, but what part?  Couldst thou direct us to the… oh, what was it called?  The… South Way Inn?”

 

“You mean the _Sandsea_ Inn?” she said.  “Oh, that’s just up the street here, on your left.  Can’t miss it, it’s got the patio dining out front.”

 

“Oh, thankest thee, ma’am!  Thou truly art a lifesaver, truly!” Loki said, as she went on her way.  He turned back to Thor.  “Rabanastre.  I have never heard aught of it, have you?”

 

“No.  Which leads to the question, how did we get here?  Father?”

 

“I would be willing to bet on it.  He thinks we need more training.  Together, for a change.”

 

“Well, it shall be more fun than all the times he hath dumped me off on my own,” Thor said.

 

“I wonder why he took our clothes,” Loki said.  “He hath never done that, before.  Well, he did, but always did he put me in something else.”

 

“Yes, me also.  This was a pretty dirty trick, coming from father,” Thor said.

 

“It is maybe a little out of character.  Could have been one of his enemies, I suppose,” Loki said, with a worried look.

 

“Powerful enough to take us both right out of Odinhall?  I findeth that hard to believe,” Thor said.

 

“Thou hath the right of it.  It had to be father,” Loki said, but he still looked worried.

 

Thor put his arm around his shoulders.  “Brother, we shall be fine.  This is just another test we shall pass with flying colors.”

 

“Of course,” Loki said, relaxing.  “It’s just there was something strange in the way I felt when I woke up.  Weak.  Heavy.  Oft have I felt groggy upon awakening embarked on one of father’s quests of self-betterment, but never in quite that way.”

 

“Aye, brother, I felt it, too.  But surely it means nothing.”

 

“I suppose.  Come, let us… let us find staples.  We need coin.  To get that we shall either have to steal or work.”

 

“I vote for _work,”_ Thor said.

 

“Thou wouldst.”

 

“So what dost we do?  Just start asking people if they have chores for us?” Thor asked.

 

“I say we go to this Sandsea Inn and ask there.  That should be the kind of place where people looking for help hang out.”

 

“How didst thou know that place existed?” Thor asked.  “’South Way Inn?’”

 

“A calculated risk.  I took a chance that there was an inn in this pestilent city that started with an S.”

 

“And if there hadst not been?”

 

“I would’ve punted.”

 

They headed down the street in the direction the woman pointed and in a matter of moments they were ploughed over by an elderly gentleman in fine, if eccentric, garb who had clearly started drinking early today.

 

“Oh, sorry, sorry, lads, sorry,” he slurred, wobbling from one to the other.  “Oh, you’re good lads, you are!  Good lads, the both a’ ye!”  And he clapped them on the shoulders and reeled off down the street.

 

“If we had anything at all to steal, I should say to check thy pockets, brother,” Thor said, watching him go.

 

“Do it anyway, brother,” Loki said, drawing a small book from his pocket that certainly hadn’t been there before.  Black leather bound, in gold leaf on the cover it said “Loki of Asgard.” 

 

“Where didst thou get that?” Thor asked.

 

“I do not know, brother, just check thy pockets,” Loki said.  Thor looked, and sure enough, a light tan-leather copy emblazoned with “Thor of Asgard.”

 

Loki opened his.  “’Tis… ‘tis a list of abilities, magicks, skills and strengths.  I do not understand.”

 

“Mine is the same,” Thor said, flipping his open.  “’Tis strange.”

 

 _Oh now, boys, it isn’t that hard to understand, is it?_  It was the drunk’s voice, in their heads this time.  _It’s a progress tracker.  Status bars next to each skill will fill as you gain experience in these areas, and when the bar fills up completely, you’ve gained a level in that skill and grown stronger in it!  Gain enough levels in enough skills, and you gain a level as a person and grow stronger as a being!  Simple as a pimple!_

“That’s an… odd way of… educating yourself…” Loki said.  “Odd but… strangely tantalizing.”

 

“Who _art_ thou?” Thor said.  “Why dost thou toy with us?”

 

_Think of me as a second cousin thrice removed.  Violently.  Suffice to say I wish no harm to either of ya.  I only want you to live an’ grow an’ have a little fun doin’ it.  Now don’t lose these books, or you’ll lose your ability to level.  They’ll also keep track of your kills and information about the creatures and foes you’ve encountered.  Handy, ain’t they?  Now off ya go.  Get acquainted with the world.  You can both learn everything if ya want, but I’d wager you’re better off specializin’.  Loki can do the fine-motor skills stuff, and Thor can do the heavy liftin’._

“What, _I_ do not have fine motor skills?” Thor said.

 

“I can lift fifty tons!” Loki said.

 

 _Not what I meant, boys!_   _Aw, you work it out your own selves.  I’m done with ya!_ And the voice silenced completely and utterly.

 

“I think we are in error, brother…” Loki said.

 

“How so?” Thor said.

 

“We should have kept our silence and let the voice speak.  Now who knows if he will ever even take us from this place and return us to Asgard.  He seems capricious to me.”

 

“He never did say exactly how we are to get him to do that, did he?” Thor said, brow furrowed.

 

“No, he did not.  I _assume_ by learning the skills in these books and having whatever adventure comes our way here in this Rabanastre.  There is probably some great trouble bubbling just under the surface of this peaceful-looking city.  Awful lot of armored guards, after all.”

 

“He would never just abandon us here, would he?” Thor asked.

 

“We have established that it was not father who brought us but a completely unknown entity.  I think it is fair to say we cannot well judge his motives and actions at all.”

 

They headed for the Inn and went inside.  They sat at the bar and Thor asked the barkeeper whether there was any work available in town for two strong lads.  The tavernmaster looked at them in their shabby stolen garb with gimlet eyes as he wiped down a glass.

 

“If you want to sit at the bar or in the dining area, you’ve got to at least buy a drink,” he said.

 

“We have no--” Thor started to say, but Loki cut him off.

 

“How much for two cups of coffee?”

 

“Ten gil.”

 

Loki looked to his left, where sat a heavy-set little man with violently red hair.  He tossed a handful of silver coins onto the bar.  “Willst this cover it?”

 

The bartender counted out ten and pushed the rest back.  “Two cups of coffee, coming up,” he said.

 

“Loki, where didst thou get that?” Thor said in a low whisper.

 

“Never thou mind.  But my pickpocketing skill wentst up nicely,” he said, showing his book.

 

 _“That’s not a skill thou shouldst be working on!”_ Thor said.

 

“Be quiet!  We needed the money, didst we not?  Now we canst sit here and find ‘honest’ work.”

 

The barkeep brought them their coffee and they sipped it for a moment in silence.  Then, a man with a goatee and sun-kissed auburn hair strode purposefully up to Loki’s side and elbowed his way in between him and the red-haired man.

 

“Hello, lads,” he said.  It wasn’t the same voice as the one they’d heard in their head, but it was a similar accent.  “I can’t help but notice that you two seem a wee bit short on ready cash.  I can help you with that.”

 

Loki perked his ears to the sound of clinking coin.  “Keep talking, stranger.”

 

“I dost not know, brother,” Thor said.  “This man seems… _slick,_ to me.”

 

“Work is work, brother, and that seems to be what he is offering,” Loki said.  “Let us hear him out.”

 

“A smart lad.  Practical-minded.  I like that type, they’re easy to work with,” the man said.  “It’s true, I am offering work.  I represent an organization that’s branching out into this area.  We’re just getting off the ground out here, and I’m handling the recruitment of new ‘talent.’  You seem to have a knack for our line of work, and your brother, well… we could always do with an enforcer.”

 

“Oh no.  Oh, no no no no no,” Thor said, standing up.  “This man is a thief.  He is recruiting for some sort of thieves cult.”

 

“It’s a guild, lad,” the man said, putting a calming hand on Thor’s shoulder.  “And think of us more as… _businessmen._ Marketers of opportunity.”

 

“And how dost one join this Thieves Guild?” Loki asked.

 

“Finding your way to our hideout is all the trial you need,” the man said, while Thor stared at his brother in horror.  “It’s down in the Garamscythe Waterway, underneath Lowtown, and it’s a dangerous place down there.  We haven’t got a quick, safe, secret entrance from the surface set up yet, so prospectives have to brave the sewers, and they’re a dangerous place.  You never know what you’ll find down there.  Think you can handle it, lad?”

 

“I canst handle it.”

 

“Then you’ll be needing the map,” the man said, and handed over a wooden token.  _“Don’t._ Lose it.  And _don’t_ share it with anyone else.  Blondie, if you reconsider, you’re welcome to come along.  Good day, lads.”

 

The man walked away and vanished, and Thor sat back down.  He hissed at Loki.  “Brother!  How canst thou even consider such a thing?”

 

“Seems to me like a good way to maketh money and learneth a number of skills at the same time,” Loki said.

 

“But… but…”

 

“Fine, brother, do not joineth me.  Get a job running errands.”

 

“I should instead joineth thee in beating up helpless merchants when they do not payeth their protection money?”

 

“Thou should not have to beateth them very hard.”

 

_“Loki!”_

 

“Very well, _be-_ eth that way!  But I am taking advantage of this opportunity.”

 

“Fine, thou goest and dost that.  I shall stay here and find _honest_ employment.”

 

Loki stood up, grabbed his coffee, and swallowed it down though it was still hot enough to scorch his throat.  He glared at his brother, then left the Inn for the bright, hot, glaring day outside.

 

His magic didn’t seem to be working, though he could feel magical energy within and around him, so he needed a weapon before he could brave the sewers.  He located an open-air bazaar and browsed the stalls for something simple but effective.  Something that could be hidden up a sleeve when not in use, but would remain deadly.  There were a number of dedicated weapons dealers, and most of the general goods dealers had weaponry on display as well, so he was spoiled for choices.  He found a beautiful enchanted dagger and asked the salesman about it.

 

“Ah, that’s the Assassin’s Dagger,” the man said.  “Enchanted to kill instantly on strike, although it can fail, depending on your adversary’s resistances.  A real bargain at only fourteen hundred gil.”

 

Loki winced.  “A bit out of my current price range.  Sorry.”

 

“That’s all right, my boy, that’s all right.  I’ve got other fine daggers at lower prices.”

 

“I thinketh perhaps I am finished shopping for the day,” Loki said, and slunk away in defeat.  Then he crept back around in the shadows, keeping out of eyeshot, and when the merchant wasn’t looking, lifted the dagger from his stand and pocketed it, then slipped away.

 

 _Very good, young’un!_ the old man’s voice said in his head.  _You’ve just leveled up as a pickpocket!  Keep on like this and you’ll level up as a person in no time, an’ be able to pick a perk from one of the skill trees!  Like, oh, say, a ten percent bonus to your ability to stay undetected when lifting things from pockets and off merchant’s stands?_

“Well, that does soundeth rather nice,” Loki said out loud to himself.

 

_And it gets better!  Additional, greater advances that stack on top of it!  If you purchase the perks.  You get perk points in accordance with your level, so one perk point at level one, two at level two, and so forth._

“What level dost I cap out at?” Loki asked.

 

_You don’t!  You can keep leveling indefinitely!  Each skill only levels up to one hundred, but when you reach that point you can reset them back to level one, keeping all your prowess but losing your perks.  Perk points invested in that skill become free points, which you can invest in other skills, if you want to.  This way, there is no cap to how good you can get at anything, and no cap to how strong an individual you can become._

“This is such a strange method of growth.  I have never before heard of ‘leveling.’  It is so much more structured than standard education, where thou simply learn and hope it sticks.  I confess it appeals to me.  Will these talents gained still function when we are returned to Asgard?”

 

_Who says ye will be?  Gotta win the game, first!  Ha!_

“All right, but assuming we do, thou wilt send us home, correct?”

 

_Of course, lad, of course.  But I tell you what, I think you’ll have trouble with that lug of a brother of yours.  Joinin’ the Thieves Guild was the right thing to do, it was what I had in mind for you exactly, but you’ve put a right good bug in his shorts.  He won’t be listening to ya, not with any good ease._

“Oh.  Well, Thor can taketh care of himself,” Loki said.

 

_Ha!  That boy can’t find his arse with both hands and a roadmap.  He **needs** you._

“Needeth _me?_ Thor needeth not anyone.  He is a natural-born leader.”

 

_That’s what Odin wants everyone to believe.  But the truth is, the boy’s a bit dim._

“He is not!” Loki said, appalled more because he felt, somehow, that the voice was right.

 

_Let’s face it, the boy might not be special needs, but comparing him to you is like comparing a Clydesdale to an Arabian stallion.  A horse is a horse, of course, of course, but one will get you to your destination a mite faster than the other._

“That all dependeth on what kind of a load thou needeth hauled, actually,” Loki said.

 

_There!  You see?  You’re even smart enough to think of that!  Come on, now, lad -- don’t tell me you can’t see that in this case, **Thor’s** the load?  Best carried by a whippet-quick lad like yourself!_

 

“Thor canst be a little slow on the uptake from time to time…”

 

_Exactly!  You run rings around him, my boy!  Now you run and you impress your Guild, then you go an’ make amends with your brother.  You can smooth things over with him, you’re clever that way.  As for what you get up to when you’re not around him… well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, will it?_

“I supposeth not,” Loki said.  It seemed natural enough to hold a conversation with this voice in his head.  He wondered at that.  What sort of entity were they dealing with?

 

_Go on, run along to the sewers, you’ve got a bit of a trial ahead of ye.  I’ll take care of explaining the leveling system to yer brother.  I’ll use small words._


	2. Bounty

_Hey!  Torrence!_

“The name is Thor,” Thor said to the voice in his head.

 

_Yeah, whatever.  You know, you really should look after yer little brother better than you do.  His moral compass is… a little askew._

“Ha!  Thou art telling me.”

 

_Right this very minute he’s haring through the sewers on his way to a thieves hideaway.  That boy’s just lookin’ fer trouble, if you ask me.  Do you know the kind of creatures that live in the sewers?  And then the thieves!  That boy’s headed straight for a bad end, if he’s not careful.  He really needs someone with a good head on his shoulders keepin’ an eye on him.  Someone like you._

“What canst I do?  No one has ever been able to telleth Loki what to do and what not to do.  He hath his own mind.”

 

_A clever lad would be able to guide him without letting him know he ever was being guided._

“A hidden hand.  I see-eth what thou meanst.  It would be difficult.  Loki is clever.  He would not take kindly to being manipulated.”

_You could do it.  You’re a smart lad.  And the allure of gold is strong in that one.  There are plenty of well-paying honest jobs in Rabanastre.  Take a look at the Hunt Board if you don’t believe me._

 

“Hunt Board?”

 

_On the back wall of the Inn.  It’s where people post bounties for nasty creatures that are bothering trade, travel, and free commerce.  Or just getting into people’s homes and raising ruckus.  Lot of that kind of thing around here, because of the way creatures are made.  The local gods have a lot of fun with people, just popping creatures into existence randomly.  They’re quite vicious and not at all afraid of people.  And they’re legion.  There’s no end to ‘em, because the gods never stop makin’ ‘em.  Some of ‘em are monstrous fierce.  The people are beleaguered.  Hunters are true heroes around these parts. **That** idea should appeal to the little attention-monger._

“It surely wouldst.”

 

_It wouldn’t take ya any time at all of fetchin’ an’ carryin’ to work up the money for a sword or axe or somethin’ rudimentary.  An’… well… yer brother’s already armed himself.  Go talk to the blue bangaa -- that’s the dragony-lookin’ guy at the table behind ya -- an’ ask him if he has any work for a fine, strong young man like yerself.  I think you’ll find he’s always got work for the young folks with not a coin in their pockets.  A kindly man, is he._

Thor looked around and located the bangaa in question, bright blue and dressed in a fine white linen shirt and an embroidered waistcoat.  He was bright blue in color, with a faded cream underside, had small, black eyes, and four long shaggy ears -- or _two_ long, split ears.  There was patchy grey hair on his ears and on the underside at the end of his long muzzle.  His back appeared to be painfully stooped, but he still looked strong.

 

“Prithee, sir?” Thor asked.  The bangaa blinked uncertainly up at him, hands gripping his cup of coffee tightly.

 

“Yes, young man?” he asked.

 

“I hath been informed that thou often have work for those down on their luck.  I findeth myself without coin, and could useth a hand.  I am very strong, and canst do most anything thou needest done.”

 

“Well, _ordinarily_ I’d probably have something, but you see, I’m here waiting on a shipment right now,” the bangaa said, “and it really doesn’t look like I’m going to get it.”

 

“What seemeth to be the problem?” Thor asked.

 

“Ugh!  There’s some little monster out in the desert attacking the caravans!  Tomaj’s wine shipment can’t make it in from the Outpost, which means he can’t fill _my_ order for wines for the fete this Loredas!  If I don’t get it soon, I’m ruined!”

 

“Well, perhaps I couldst goeth to the Outpost and fetcheth forth the wines,” Thor said.

 

“Oh no, too dangerous.  You don’t even have a weapon!  The desert is treacherous, my boy!” the bangaa said.

 

A short, slender, blond-haired man in a green vest walked over from where he waited tables nearby.  “But perhaps you could take care of the nastiness for us,” he said.  He stuck out a hand.  “Name’s Tomaj.  I’m the owner of this fine establishment.  I put out a bounty for the monster that’s attacking the caravans, because it’s put a real hurt on my business -- on everybody’s business here in town.  But it’s small fry, at least as far as the local hunters are concerned, and so is the bounty.  But it might be just the thing for an eager young man to cut his teeth on.  Interested?”

 

“I haveth no weapon, sir,” Thor said.

 

“Take mine,” Tomaj said, drawing an iron dagger from his boot.  “It’s not much, but it will get you by for now.  And hey, have this too, why don’t you?  An Orrachea Armlet.  Improves your health by a small percentage.  Every little bit helps, don’t it?”

 

“Oh, thankest thee, sir!  I wilt striveth to be worthy of thy faith in me,” Thor said.

 

“Flowery one, aren’t you?” Tomaj said.  “Anyway, it’s good to see a young man willing to work his way up out of the gutters honestly.  They aren’t all like that.  Now, you go check the Hunt Board on the wall over there for my notice and get the details on your mark.  It’s the posting titled ‘Red and Rotten in the Desert.’  If you have any questions, just ask.”

 

“I wonder where mine brother is,” Thor muttered, eyes downcast, and went to look at the posting.

 

Loki, meanwhile, had found his way to Lowtown, the city beneath the city, and casual inquiries had determined that the main entrance to the Garamscythe Waterway was through a place called Storehouse Five, which was kept locked.  Further inquiries uncovered that the local children liked to pick this lock and play in the first area of the Waterway.  If children could do it, so could Loki.  He just had to find something to serve as a lockpick.

 

Most of the architecture was stonework and tile, but he discovered a ramshackle wood-built hovel tucked away in a corner.  It was hard to believe that the resident of such a place could afford to feed themselves, but they had set food out for a number of long-tailed cats that milled about, fought with each other, and sharpened their claws on the rotting woodwork.  Splinters lay everywhere.  Loki gathered the strongest ones and prayed they’d be sufficient.

 

It took several tries and several broken splinters, but Loki finally succeeded in picking the storehouse lock.  He slipped inside and was faced with a choice of two doors, one to either hand.  He chose the one that stood open, reasoning it was the one that was most used.  The token in his pocket didn’t give much of a clue either way.  It was a bit of a puzzle as far as maps went, actually.  Stood to figure.

 

He slew a cadre of enormous rats and stood in ankle-deep water.  Children actually played down here?  Eugh.  Well, he supposed if one lived in squalor one had a certain affinity for it.  He could see why the thieves liked it.  No man working on a guardsman’s salary was going to come poking around down here without express orders.

 

He wound his way through the maze of fetid corridors, following his best guess as to the meaning of the markings on the token.  He fought rats, giant toads, crocodiles, and ran from apparently indestructible ghosts.  He had to open and close sluice gates to open passages, crawl through duct works, and slip between the bars of gates.  He wasn’t entirely certain Thor could have managed it, to be honest, and of course, Thor had never had to do the things he’d had to do in his life.  Living in the stables, with the horses.  He wasn’t as accustomed to filth.  He might not have been able to handle the sewers at all, let alone the dirty, disagreeable work of being a thief.

 

Down a long, dark hallway, he neared a lighted corner and heard voices.  He approached slowly, cautiously.

 

“So, what’s this fresh meat you found, Brynjolf?  You said you’d come up with something promising.”

 

“Aye, Maran.  Quite a _stunning_ young man, really.  Picked a pocket and _I_ didn’t even see it happen.”

 

“Well, I hope he’s better than the last two you sent our way.  They never even made it here.”

 

“Ugh.  To be honest, I never really expected them to,” Brynjolf said.  “I was just desperate for recruits.”

 

Loki stood tall, and straightened his blouse.  He wished he could cast an illusion over himself of fine, clean clothes, instead of these sopping, filth-covered rags, but no wish could make it so.  Instead, he simply presented of himself the best image possible of strength and confidence.  It would have to do.

 

He smoothed his hair back and strode around the corner.  “Hello, all,” he said, in a cocky manner, heedless of the daggers that withdrew at his appearance.

 

“Well, you don’t waste any time,” the auburn-haired Brynjolf said, leaning back against a bar in the middle of the room.  “Good to see you, lad.  We were just talkin’ about you.  You, uh… you had no trouble gettin’ here?”

 

“Nothing that I couldst not handle.  What dost thee do about ghosts, pray?  My blade didst nothing against them.”

 

“White magic.  Healing magic.  Toss a potion or a bit of phoenix down at them or cast a healing spell at them,” the bangaa behind the bar said.  He tossed a book at Loki.  “I’m not very good at remembering spells so I keep my few spell books near to hand.  Here’s one for a basic cure spell.  That should be enough to handle most anything you’d find down here in the Rabanastre sewers.”

 

“Thankest thee kindly.  I shall set to memorizing that right away,” Loki said, wondering if it would work for him.  He knew plenty of healing spells back home.  Perhaps magic worked differently here, and that was why the spells he knew wouldn’t work?

 

“So, what’s your name, wonder child?” Brynjolf asked.

 

“Loki,” he said.

 

Brynjolf seemed taken aback.  “Are you a Nord?” he asked.

 

“Nord?”  He thought of the Vikings and wondered how this man knew of them.  It seemed as good a cover as any in this strange world.  “Yes, mine brother and I are Nords.”

 

“You talk funny for a Nord.  Traveling here from Skyrim, then, as I am?  You’re a long way from home, kinsman.  What brings you here?”

 

“Actually, we are not from Skyrim.  We are from… much closer to hand,” Loki said.  “We wandered in from a nearer kingdom to seek our fortune and adventure but were robbed blind whilst we slept.  I thinkst perhaps we wert drugged.”

 

“Your brother didn’t like your choice of employment,” Brynjolf said.  “Do you think he will be trouble?”

 

Loki shook his head.  “He may not like it, but he’ll say nought about it.”

 

“’Cause I’d hate to have to take ‘measures’ against your brother.”

 

“Thou shan’t.  He may not like thievery, but he has nothing personal against thieves.”

 

“Good.  Quite a pity he wouldn’t work for us.  We could really use that kind of muscle, but I’ll take your cleverness any day of the week.  Of course, as a member of the Guild you’re a free agent, selling your stolen goods back to our Guild fences, but I’ll kick a few special jobs your way here and there as they come in.  In fact, why don’t you handle a little something for me right now, just to get your feet wet?  So to speak.”  


He stepped away from the bar and came over to Loki’s side.  “Dalmasca’s in big trouble, as you may know.  Arcadia is making noises of invasion, which is why Little D looked to Big Cyrodiil for protection.  But Dalmasca is being a bit… _stodgy_ about certain things in their treaty negotiations.  The Empire wants them to loosen up.  To that end, we’ve been contacted about relieving them of a few treasures they hold dear.  They don’t care _what_ treasures, or what we do with them.  To that end, I need a clever someone to break into the palace treasury and make off with whatever he can carry.”

 

Loki’s jaw dropped.  “Thou wanteth me to breaketh into the palace?  Talk about a trial by fire.  I likest it.”

 

Brynjolf clapped him on the back.  “That a boy.  For helpful hints and details, talk to Maran the bartender and Rjla the Fence.  She’s the one with the ears.”

 

There was only one woman in the place at the current time, so pointing her out by her tall, rabbit-like ears wasn’t truly necessary, but they were certainly a dominant feature.  She was quite a comely lady, with dark skin and pale eyes, blonde hair, and a tiny snip of a nose.  Loki regretted his poor clothing and the filth of the sewers all the more.

 

Still, he put on his charm and oozed up to her.

 

“Don’t even think it, hume,” she said abruptly.  “Even if you had whiskers on your chin, you wouldn’t stand a chance.”

 

Whiskers were a touchy subject.  By all rights, he should have been bearded for several tens of thousands of years by now.  Thor had his beard for _hundreds_ of thousands of years.  He just didn’t know why it wouldn’t grow.

 

His hand went to his chin.  “What dost thou meanst about my whiskers?” he said.

 

She sighed and rolled her eyes.  “You’re a hume.  I don’t mate with humes.  Even if I did, you are obviously a child.  You have no whiskers.”

 

“I am older than I lookst,” he said.

 

“And I am a hundred and twenty-six,” she said.

 

He was actually several millions of years older than that, but an explanation would reveal things better left undisclosed.  He changed the subject with some reluctance.  “Brynjolf said thee mightst havest information for me regarding the Palace Treasury job?”

 

“Aye.  I managed to get hold of the original plans of construction for the palace itself.  Probably not one hundred percent accurate anymore, but enough to get a clever infiltrator through to the treasury undetected.  Ordinarily, this would cost you a small fortune, but since you’re new and the job is important to the Guild, I’ll give them to you for free -- on the condition that you promise never to look at me in that covetous way ever again.”

 

“You’d best give in, lad.  _She_ won’t,” Brynjolf said.

 

“All right, I promise,” Loki said, spitting the words out like venom.  She slapped the roll of parchments onto his open palm.

 

“There you are.  Maran has words for you, I think.  We are done here.”  She turned away.

 

Maran the bartender was a bangaa, of dark green coloration and exceptionally muscular build, tall even for a bangaa.  He gestured for Loki to join him behind the bar and put one hand on Loki’s shoulder and bent down low to speak in his ear.

 

“Getting into the palace is impossible,” he said.

 

“Oh.  Goodst to know.”

 

“And even if you did, the palace treasury is locked by magic.  You’re not getting in.”

 

“I see-eth…”

 

“If anyone knows how to do what’s impossible, my boy, it’s Old Dalan, in Lowtown.  Talk to him.  He’s a ‘friend’ of the Guild.”

 

“Ah ha.  Thankest thee, sir.  Ahm… dost thou know where an enterprising young man could getst his hands on a set of professional grade lockpicks?”

 

“Rjla can set you up, but don’t expect her to do it for free.  That kind of thing gets pretty pricey.”

 

“I shall be able to afford whatever I wantst, soon enough,” Loki said, with a grin.

 

In the desert, Thor felt keenly the absence of mjolnir.  The wolves were many and attacked with the speed, viciousness, and persistence of mosquitoes.  A dagger just wasn’t the weapon of choice.  It had no mind for him.  When he threw it, it remained thrown, and did not return to his hand.  And it required a certain precision.  It wasn’t inherently deadly, like mjolnir.  You had to strike just so, or your foe would barely falter.  At last, when he was badly bitten and scratched, the wolves fell dead at his feet.  He surveyed his handiwork for a moment, then set to skinning his kills.  No sense in wasting these lives.

 

A pair of strange cactus-creatures played nearby, paying no attention to him or the slaughter.  He’d never seen a walking plant, before.  Curious little monster, but it seemed harmless, if prickly.  He wouldn’t want to touch it.  He finished up his gruesome task and stretched the skins out on the sand to dry.

 

_Well done, young’un!  Although you went about it in a most amateurish fashion, you managed to level up your dagger skill, and all that prior experience with hunting means you’ve leveled up your tanning skill twice.  Which means, you yourself have leveled up once.  You’ve drawn ahead of Loki!  You get to choose a skill point now.  Open up your book and take a look at the skill trees.  Choose wisely.  You’ll have waay more than enough points by the end for everything you want, but right now, it’s pretty important to make the right choice._

Thor checked to be certain nothing was charging him, then opened his book.  The page after page of skill names and progress bars had been replaced by constellations of trees, with the trunk and branches made up of stars.  Most of these stars were dark, but the few at the roots of the trees were bright, showing that they could be purchased for a perk point.  He discounted the magic skills offhand.  He didn’t have much use for magic, that was Loki’s thing.  If it wasn’t lightning, it wasn’t worth it.

 

Here was an interesting one, in light of his injuries.  A perk that would make heavy armor ten percent more effective than it naturally was.  Of course, he didn’t _have_ any armor, but getting some was definitely a top priority.  He chose that.

 

 _Haugh.  Loki would have chosen something more **interesting** his first time out,_ the voice said.

 

“Loki is nay so ‘practical’ as some wouldst have believed,” Thor said, snapping the book shut.

 

 _Nevertheless, I look forward to his choice,_ the voice said.

 

“Whosoever art thou?” Thor asked.  “Thou hast not told us.”

 

_Patience, patience m’lad.  All shall be revealed in due time.  Say, look over there on that promontory.  I think that’s yer rogue tomato._

Rogue tomato.  What a ridiculous creature.  More ambulatory plantlife, and why in Odin’s name were caravaneers afraid of it?  Seeing it now, it stood little higher than his ankles.  He readied his dagger and approached.

 

The creature, a plump red tomato head atop a striped purple humanoid body, took no notice of him at all until he was within three feet, when it turned, shrieked, and blasted him with a breath of fire that singed the lower legs of his stolen trousers.  Thor let out an oath and, still burning, plunged his dagger into the tomato’s head before dropping into the sand and beating out the flames.  Now bitten and burned, he was in sore shape.  He stared at the dead tomato in some sourness of spirit.  Someone might have warned him about the dragon’s breath.

 

 _Oh, you did a splendid job, my boy, a splendid job,_ the voice said.  _That’s one bounty for you.  What was the bounty on that little bugger, by the by?_

Thor thought back.  “I dost not recall, actually.  Potions of some sort, thinkst I.”

 

_Ah, pish.  Potions are boring.  Unless they’re the type that send you into psychedelic dimensions populated by slimy eyeball creatures._

 

“I had best get back to the city.  ‘Tis dangerous out here alone.  When even the flora canst fight.”


	3. Gate

“Well.  It seemeth I must hie me hence and findeth this ‘Old Dalan,’” Loki said, when he found his way out of the sewers into Lowtown once more.

 

_Argh, you could do that.  But I think you maybe want to go find yer brother first._

 

“Whyfor is that?”

 

_Well, it seems he’s gotten himself locked out of the city.  Y’see, the new Imperial Consulate from Cyrodiil has arrived unexpectedly a few days early by airship, and they’ve locked the city down tight for his inspection.  No one gets in or out without an official Writ of Passage.  Which you can only get from someone very important.  It’s going to be awhile before they open up again, and your brother is ill-prepared to wait out in the desert.  That desert kills, even gods._

“Well how in blazes am I supposed to geteth him in again?  I dost not knoweth anyone important,” Loki said.

 

_Talk to Migelo, at the Sandsea.  He’s waiting for yer brother.  Put him up to this task.  So you see, he has a vested interest in getting him back into the city._

“Grr… I haveth not time for this,” Loki said, and took off running for the stairs to the upper city.

 

_Your brother haveth not time for this!  He’s already thirsty and he’s too stupid to kill a cactite for water!  Go! Hurry!_

Loki ran for the Sandsea and headed for the bar.  “Prithee, good sir,” he asked of the barman, “dost thou knowest a fellow knownst by Migelo?  Needst I to speaketh to him.”

 

The bartender pointed to the bangaa sitting at the table nearby.  “Right over yonder.”

 

“Thankee kindly, gracious sir.”

 

He approached cautiously.  The bangaa blinked uncertainly at him, as though he could not see him clearly.

 

“Can I help you, young man?” he asked.

 

“I begst thou pardon, my good sir,” Loki said, clasping his hands together before him, “but hast thou seen aught of my brother Thor?  I am told he was in thy presence.  Tall, muscle-bound, blond, lightly-bearded?”

 

“Oh yes!  Tomaj the innkeeper sent him out to fight some little monster that’s been disrupting trade.  It shouldn’t have been much of a fight for such a strapping lad, but he has been gone awhile.  I do hope he hasn’t run into any difficulty.”

 

“The difficulty is he hath been locked out of the city by the guard,” Loki said.  “The new Imperial Consulate hath arrived early, and the city hath been locked down indefinitely for his inspection.  No one gets in, no one gets out.  Not without express permission from someone of importance.”

 

Migelo half-rose from his chair.  “Oh, that poor boy!  With not even a canteen!  Oh, we must do something about this.  Think, Migelo.  Think… think… he’s out there after my wines, which are for the fete, which is to welcome the new Imperial Consulate, who just arrived unexpectedly…  That’s it!  That should give us due cause!  Come with me, boy -- we’ll get your brother back safe and sound in the city where he belongs.”

 

Migelo led Loki to the north end of the city, where there was a small office tucked away in a government building that clearly hadn’t had time to set up completely yet, as boxes were still stacked and the office manager was in the process of moving everything in.  She looked harried, but pushed her blonde hair out of her face and greeted them civilly.

 

“May I help you?”

 

“The Consulate has arrived!  The city is in lockdown!  I am in charge of throwing his welcoming fete at the palace, but the wines for it are currently trapped at the Outpost in the Estersand!  This young man must run and fetch them for me!  He needs official dispensation to leave the city and return!” Migelo said.

 

“Very well,” the woman said, quite calmly, and dug a roll of parchment from a box of similar rolls.  “Ah, here we go.  Writ of Passage.  There’s my signature.  All he has to do is show that to the gate guards.  Off he goes.”

 

“Oh, thank you,” Migelo said, and bowed his way out of the office.  He handed Loki the parchment.  “There you go, lad, now you go get your brother.”

 

“What about thy wines?” Loki asked.

 

“Never mind the wines.  Worry about your brother.  He’s what’s important here.”

 

“Which way dost I go to get to the Estersand?”

 

“Head to the Southern Plaza, my boy, it’s the only way out of the city.  Then just take the East Gate, of course.  Hopefully, your brother will be just outside the gate in the courtyard beyond.”

 

Loki sped off without further ado, following his faultless memory through the maze of city streets to the Southern Plaza where stood the fountain of which he had bad memories.  To the north of it, past a decorative garden, sat the Royal Palace, and he stood and stared at it for a long moment before turning to the eastern stairs.

 

“I shall be seeing _thee_ later,” he said to it before he left.

 

The guard at the gate sneered at his Writ when he shoved his way to the fore of the line of clamoring people yelling about why they couldn’t leave the city, but he opened the gate for him.  He wouldn’t let anyone else through, however, and drew his spear when the crowd surged forward.

 

“Hey you, boy,” a green bangaa said.  “You’re leaving the city, could you do me a favor?  I’m a merchant, and my partner got locked out.  Could you deliver this little satchel to him?  He should be just outside.  Brown bangaa, should have a couple of heavy bags of wares with him already.”

 

“Oh.  Certainly, good sir.  I shall undertaketh this task for thee,” Loki said, and took the small parcel.  He pocketed it and didn’t give it another thought as he headed out the gate to the desert beyond.  He saw the hapless merchant standing near a corral of large yellow birds, but passed him by with nary a glance.

 

Thor was not there.  Loki was angered, but not especially surprised.  Thor had not the brains to pour piss out of a boot with instructions on the heel, so of course he would not wait where it was safe to do so.  Which meant Loki would have to go searching for his ass.  He was probably lost in the desert.

 

Loki headed that way, but he didn’t get far into the Estersand before he met Thor coming back the other way, carrying a pile of furs and a crate of wine bottles on his shoulder.

 

“So there thee are, thou roustabout!” Loki said.  “What hast thou been doing, out here in the desert?  Dost thou knowest the trouble I have been to for thee?  The city is locked down.  No one canst get in or out without official dispensation.”

 

Thor stopped short and dropped his pile of furs.  “Thou hast it, I hope?” he said, wide-eyed.

 

“I hath.  Though in truth I knowest not that they’ll let us both back in.  Officially I am only after Migelo’s wines.”

 

“I hope thee hast an idea, brother.”

 

“Dost I not always?  Leaveth it to me.  I say, thou art rather torn up, aren’t thee?”

 

“I didst take some of a beating in fighting these wolves, aye,” Thor said, taking up his furs again.

 

Loki clucked his tongue and shook his head.  “Brother mine.  Wilt thou never learn to run when thou art outnumbered?”

 

 _If he had, he wouldn’t have leveled up,_ the voice said.  _If you hadn’t, and had killed all those sewer creatures you stabbed at instead of just striking and running and hoping your fancy stolen dagger would do its little trick of instant-killing, you’d have leveled up by now, too.  Your running skill is going to level up nicely by the end, but you need to work on some other skills, too, to round out your character, my boy._

“Art thou saying he’s ahead of me?” Loki said.

 

_Little bit.  Not much, little bit.  You’ve been leveling up a few skills here and there a little bit at a time.  He leveled up one skill hard, then another skill pretty hard.  Therefore, he gained levels in those skills, and thence gained a level as an individual.  Pick a skill and stick with it for a bit, and you will, too.  Not that it’s bad to have a lot of skills._

 

“Well, I hath learned something that mayeth prove useful.  Hold still, brother,” Loki said, and with some irritation cast his newly-memorized “cure” spell over Thor’s injured legs.  It had little appreciable effect.

 

_A good effort!  A good effort!  It will get better as you improve your skill in restoration magic.  Try it again, see if it doesn’t help a bit more._

He cast the spell again, and the wounds healed a bit more.  They were, however, still open.  With an oath, Loki cast again, putting all his will into it.  The wounds knitted at last.

 

_Very good, young’un, very good!  You’ve leveled up in Restoration!  Level up in one more skill and you’ll level up, too!  You’ve got a good head start in Dagger, Athletics -- that’s yer “running” skill -- Lockpicking and Speechcraft!  You’re gonna be a charmer, you are, I can tell, but then, you always were!_

“Didst thou know, brother, they haveth _dinosaurs_ here?” Thor said.  “Dost thee remember dinosaurs?  Weren’t they the best fun to hunt?  ‘Twas a Tyrannosaurus Rex, standing right o’er yonder, big as life and twice as green.  It didst not bother me and I didst not bother it, having only a dagger to mine name, but brother, what hunters we couldst be here!  I didst not know dinosaurs existed anywhere still in any realm of the universe!”

 

“This is what thee wisheth to do for honest money, I taketh it?” Loki said.  “Hunt?”

 

“’Tis work we’re well familiar with, brother, and apparently sought after in the area.”

 

“Well, I’m for it, I suppose,” Loki said, as though making a great concession, when really he was thinking that there was always room for more coin.  He didn’t have to be in Thor’s presence all day every day, hunting with him or not, and the Thieves Guild had already made it clear he acted as a free agent with no set schedule, though certainly they wanted the palace treasury job done swiftly.

 

Thor visibly relaxed.  “Glad I am to hear it, brother.  I hath already taken a small bounty, though yet hath I to collect it.  There are more on the board at the Inn.  We couldst set ourselves up nicely in this manner, and haveth adventures worth the drinking on into the bargain.”

 

“Mm hmm.”

 

“Thou dost not soundeth overly excited, brother.”

 

“Oh, ‘tis sorry am I, brother.  My thoughts were elsewhere.”

 

“Mm hmm.  On thy Thieves Guild and chicanery.”

 

“Actually, brother, I chanced for to meet the most fair maiden this day.  She didst not care for me, but I do wonder whether there might not be others of her kind in this city.”

 

Thor perked in the same way a hound’s ears perked to the sound of prey.  “A fair maiden, thee say?”

 

“Oh, most comely, my brother,” Loki said.  “Of a race I hath never before seen.  Mostly Asgardian in appearance but with tall ears like unto a hare’s.”

 

Thor subsided.  “Thee dost like thy animals, brother.  ‘Tis sickening.”

 

“She is not an animal, brother, she is all woman.  Thee didst not see-eth her.”

 

“Only the ears were as rabbit?”

 

“Well, the nose wert small and perky.  But still as ours, just… wee.  It madeth her look a bit more rabbity than the ears alone could hath done.  But it sat well to her face.  Most delicate features.”

 

“Hmm.  She doth sound fair, despite the ears…”

 

“Yes, brother, think about the pretty girl,” Loki said under his breath.  “Forget all about my plans.”

 

They headed back to the courtyard.  They came in behind another traveler, who paused at a tall blue crystal that stood across from the corral of yellow birds and placed his hand upon it before proceeding on to the line of people at the gate.

 

Thor looked at Loki.  “I hath seen someone else do that when ere I first left the city.  I wonder why they did.”

 

“That stone is magic, brother, I sense it,” Loki said.  “Ordinarily, I wouldst be wary about standing close unto it without first researching its effects.”

 

“No one else seems wary of it.”  Thor walked up to it and placed his hand flat upon it.  “Brother, the most incredible feeling.  All remaining pain from my wounds, gone.  And I feel reenergized, as though awakened from a fine night’s sleep.”

 

“As long as thee does not droppeth dead in twenty minutes from some strange extraterrestrial cancer, brother.”

 

“We are gods.  We are immune to such things.  Put thy hand on this.”

 

“I do not think so.”

 

“Do it.”

 

“No.”

 

_“Do it.”_

 

“Just because thou art stupid does not make me a fool.”

 

Thor grabbed Loki by the wrist and marched him over to the stone and forced his hand upon it.  “There.  Dost thou feel that?”

 

“I never doubted thee,” Loki said, twisting away.  “There, now that we are _both_ condemned to an early and horrific demise, art thou happy?”

 

“Very, brother.”

 

“Good.  Let us get back to the city.”

 

Loki wound his way through the line of people to the guardsmen, with Thor at his back.  “Let us through,” he said.

 

“Not without permission, scug,” the man said.

 

“I hath permission,” Loki said, waving the Writ of Passage.  “For myself and these wines.”

 

The guardsman took the parchment and read it.  “All right, it lets you through, and the wines, but not Big And Blond, here, he has to stay.”

 

“He has to come.  I canst not carry the wines.  He is portage.”

 

The guard looked at Loki in disbelief.  “You can’t carry that crate of wines on your own?  You’re skinny but you don’t look weak.”

 

“Looks are deceiving.  I canst not drag my bodkin from one end of town to the other.  Let us through.”

 

The guard sighed and opened the gate.  Loki grinned unpleasantly, bowed grandly, and led the way through.

 

“Back to the Sandsea?” Thor asked, on the other side.

 

“Aye, brother.  Thy friend Migelo will be most gratified to see his wines again.”

 

“And me.”

 

“He cared not about you at all, brother.  He wanted only his wines.”

 

“What does it gain you to lie to me, brother?”

 

“Pleasure.  Come now, we’re wasting daylight.”

 

“Somehow, brother, I think daylight is not something in short supply in these parts.  Never have I felt such hot sun.”

 

“Perhaps this is the truth of Hel, brother,” Loki said.  “Hot, but more pleasant to live in than we’d been led to believe.”

 

“I do not think this is Hel, brother.  Heimdall hath shown me Hel.  It doth not look like this.”

 

“Let those of us bound thence dream, brother.”

 

“Do not speak so.”

 

“’Tis only the truth.  Some of us are given little chance of glory.”

 

“And some are too busy looking for shortcuts to find it.”

 

“You think me lazy?”

 

“I think you overprecipate.  A little patience wouldst do you wonders, brother.”

 

They made their way to the Sandsea, where Thor gave Tomaj his wine shipment and the body of the rogue tomato.  Tomaj in return gave him the bounty of three hundred silver gil, two basic green healing potions, and a small stone he called a teleport stone.  He also chipped in sixty extra gil for the meat of the creature, which he said would make a fine stew.  When Thor tried to give back the borrowed dagger, Tomaj told him to keep it.

 

“I can easily get another.  Let that do for you ‘til something better comes along,” he said.  As he picked up the wines to take them to the back room, Thor quickly scooped something out of the crate and hid it behind his back so Loki could not see.

 

“What was that, brother?  Hast thou taken to theft?” Loki said, unbelieving.

 

“No.  No.  ‘Tis only something of no consequence I found in the desert,” Thor said.  His blue eyes shifted from side to side.

 

“What is it?  What is it thee does not wish me to see?”  Thor danced around but Loki was quicker and wrested from him the handful of red lilies he held.  “Flowers?  Brother, hast thou gone soft of mind?”

 

“They reminded me of mother’s flowers,” Thor said quietly, head turned downward.

 

The flowers drooped in Loki’s hand.  “They doth look aught like the flowers she tends day in and on in her garden.  But ‘tis… ‘tis too early to miss her, brother.  We hath not been here a day,” he said with tinny bravado.

 

 _“Nevertheless,”_ Thor said, and took the flowers back with firm grip.  “First off, we shouldst find ourselves nightly digs, brother, now we hath a small supply of coin.  ‘Twill be a long day indeed if we hath no place to lay our heads tonight.”

 

“True enough, I suppose,” Loki said, “though I wonder greatly if we canst afford lodgings as of yet.”

 

“Not around these parts, boys,” Migelo said, from his table nearby.  “Not if three hundred and sixty gil is really all you have.  But I tell you what, I often give space over to youngsters in trouble, since the plague and especially now with the war.  I don’t have any extra space right now in my home but… well… you seem trustworthy enough.  It’s not the most comfortable spot in the world, but I could set you up in my stockroom for the night, ‘til something better comes along for you.  It’s warm and dry at least.  Believe it or not, it gets cold at night here in the desert.”

 

“Well brother, how doth that sound to thee?” Thor asked.

 

“As a hard stone floor and a pimento bread loaf for a pillow.  But possibly the best we canst do for the night,” Loki said.

 

“I hath furs to sell.  We canst take more bounties today.  By tomorrow eve, surely we canst do better for ourselves.”

 

“For the remainder of this day, thou art on thy own, brother,” Loki said.  “I hath plans.”

 

“Plans of what, brother?” Thor asked, eyeing his younger brother suspiciously.

 

“Plans of mischief, brother.  What else?”


End file.
